


Let Me See

by defendt0pbunk



Series: We're Gonna Get You Help [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Self Harm, Tattooed Castiel, Tattooed Dean, moc!dean, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 12:37:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1648898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defendt0pbunk/pseuds/defendt0pbunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has been wearing a lot of long layers recently. Castiel is trying to figure out why. Based on 9:18 (Meta Fiction) when Cas sees the Mark of Cain on Dean's arm</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me See

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for one of my anons on tumblr. **PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS SERIES IF YOU ARE EASY TRIGGERED**

Dean and Castiel have been roommates for almost two months. Dean doesn't find Castiel all that odd. He's quiet, he cooks a lot and he's a neat freak. All three Dean is extremely grateful for. 

About two weeks ago, before Castiel had moved in, Dean's high school sweetheart, Lisa was in a car accident with a drunk driver. The guy hit her head on, ejected her from the car and killed her instantly. Of course she wasn't wearing a seatbelt. Castiel never understood what possessed a person to climb into a 3,000 pound steel contraption and not be properly restrained whilst traveling at such high speeds. Dean told him that he mostly keeps to himself, he doesn't go out as often as he used too, and he sleeps every chance he gets.

Castiel had just pulled in the drive way, he was carrying a few groceries. He unlocked the door and walked through the living room and made his way to the small kitchen area in the corner. "Dean?" He called, putting the lettuce and tomato on the counter. The two of them decided on BLT's for dinner. He craned his neck forward a little and peaked in Dean's room. Fast asleep. He just smiled and finished unpacking the groceries.

Dean woke to the smell of bacon flooding his nostrils. He rubbed his eyes and stood up sinking his bare feet into the cream colored carpet, making his way to the living room. "Something smells good." He said with a yawn, his voice still sleep ridden.

Castiel peered up from the griddle that was currently popping grease in his face from the bacon, "Ah, good morning, Sleeping Beauty. I'm making dinner."

"Bacon?" Dean asked, now looking curiously over Castiel's shoulder. 

"Better. BLT's." Castiel responded with a half smirk. He saw long blue sleeves from out of the corner of his eye. He turned and examined Dean up and down. "Please, for the love of God, please tell me you are not wearing that thick ass hoodie in 70 degree weather?"

Dean looked down at his hoodie then back up at Castiel and shugged. "What? It's comfortable and my room is freezing because someone-" He pointed at Castiel with both hands. "Didn't turn off the AC when they left."

Castiel huffed out a laugh. "Last time I checked your hands and legs aren't broken, you're 23 dude, you should know how to work a thermostat." He said matter of factly. 

Dean leaned against the counter and look at him, "Yeah and I was dead asleep."

Castiel just laughed and shook his head as he piled the bacon onto a plate. "Will you help me with the lettuce and tomato?" He asked grabbing the cutting board from behind faucet of the sink. Dean grabbed a knife from the knife block and handed it to him before he started to separate the lettuce.

Castiel jumped in the shower after he had finished eating and noticed a hand towel covered in something that looked at a lot like blood buried underneath a few articles of clothing in the clothes hamper. He shrugged and chose to ignore it until after he got out.

"Hey," He said coming out of his bedroom fully dressed. Dean was laying on the couch channel surfing. "You didn't cut yourself on something did you?" He asked.

Dean froze for a second and his eyes widened. He felt his arm start to burn under the sleeve of his hoodie. "No." He lied. "Why?" He turned his attention to the dark headed man.

"There's like a rag in the bathroom covered in blood, like a lot of blood." 

"Oh shit!" Dean said in realization. "It's Gatorade. I knocked it off the counter earlier and the lid wasn't on." He lied again.

When Dean looked at him again he had a confused look on his face. "Are you sure? I don't think Gatorade is that dark.."

"Unless you had a girl over here last night and Aunt Flow paid a visit." He wagged his eyebrow at him.

Castiel shot Dean a look of disgust. "Gross. I've lived here for two months, you know damn well I don't bat for their team." 

"You could be secretly switching teams, man!" Dean threw his hands up in defense. "There's no judgement here." 

 

Castiel plopped on the couch next to Dean and sighed dramatically. "Let's go to a bar tonight." He suggested. Dean turned his head.

"I have things to do." Dean answered, looking at him.

"Really? Like what?" Castiel asked sarcastically.

"Sleeping, eating, laying around, hanging out inside. Ya know? Stuff that doesn't involve human contact." Dean said. He was completely serious. He didn't like to socialize anymore than he found necessary.

"You." Castiel said waving his finger at Dean. "Are no fun." He dropped his head against the arm of the couch with a thud and stared at Dean for a long time. He laid his legs across Dean's lap and Dean winced and quickly pulled his arm out from under Castiel's legs.

"Everything okay?" Castiel asked with a puzzled look. Dean nodded and got up and started toward his bedroom. He slammed the door behind him.

Castiel scratched his head. "Man, he's acting fucking weird." He said in a hushed tone. He shrugged and focused his attention back to the TV a little while longer.

Behind Dean's bedroom door, he had already shed the hoodie he had been wearing. The gauze he had wrapped around his forearm didn't seem to have blood seeping through, it sure felt like it though. It still burned a little if he wore long sleeves. But he'd bare the pain just like he did any other time.

Morning came fast and Castiel was making breakfast in the kitchen. Dean sat up and stretched then walked across the floor to his tiny bathroom and started the shower. He stripped out of the boxers and the white cotton T-shirt from the night before and stepped in the shower, not even bothering to close the door. 

Castiel was startled as a loud shriek came from the other room. He ran in Dean's room and stopped at the bathroom door to see what was going on. "What happened? Are you okay, Dean?" He asked loud enough that Dean could hear over the sound of running water. 

Dean hesitated for a second before answering him, trying to come up with a believable lie. "Uh, Yeah Cas, everything's fine, just dropped the shampoo on my foot." He looked down and winced as a few more droplets of water hit the deep gash on his arm. Now that he knew that it burned in the shower, he'd learn to be more cautious in the future if his current situation were ever to happen again.

Dean walked in to the living room with clean clothes and wet hair. Castiel smiled at him but his smile faded quickly. 

"Really, man? Another long sleeved shirt? It's almost 80 outside! I'm starting to sweat just looking at you." He pointed out.

"It's not that heavy, Cas. Relax. It's not like i'm going outside today, anyway." 

"You're kind of depressing, you know that?" Castiel admitted as he flipped the scrambled eggs in the frying pan. "Always staying inside, not talking to anyone-" He glanced at Dean with worried eyes. Then he looked away right as Dean made eye contact with him.

"Not true." Dean said. "I talk to you."

"I don't count. I mean, you don't talk to anyone besides me." Castiel reassured him.

"I talk to Sam.."

Breakfast was done and Castiel fixed two plates for the both of them. They ate in total silence in the living room.

"Do you-" He paused, trying to figure out the right thing to say. "Do you talk about it with anyone? About what happened? It helps with the grieving process.." He spoke softly not knowing if Dean would talk to him. Dean just shook his head and continued eating.

The cuts on Dean's arm healed. There are scars were the cuts used to be. He could now wear short sleeved shirts without having to worry about Castiel seeing his mutilated arm. Although one of the scars, stuck out like a sore thumb, it was noticeable from all the way across the room.

He counted. Two weeks. It took two weeks for a cut to heal, if it was self inflicted. The chicken scratches he wasn't worried about, it was the gashes he made most of the time that took a little longer to heal. The deep ones, when he'd press down real hard drag the steel blade slowly across his arm and feel it split his skin in half. He alway kept a first aid kit in the back of his closet for ones like that, because he hated hospitals and he wasn't gonna go to the nut house for something as simple and stupid as a cut on his arm.

"I'll be back tonight." Dean called before walking out the door. See, the only time Dean actually left his and Cas' apartment is when he had to get something from the store or when he went to work. He worked the 12 to 5 every day at the local tattoo shop just a few blocks down the street called Reckless Ink Tattoos. Dean was almost covered head to toe with tattoos and Castiel thought that made him 700 times more attractive than he already was. He had a few piercings too, but nothing too overly dramatic. 

When Dean worked late Castiel liked to have dinner waiting for him on the stove when he got home, because he knew that Dean would have extremely long days and he'd be grumpy when he came home. The house was relatively clean for the most part so he would only have to clean up a little bit some of the time.

Dean came home from work just around 7:00, stormed through the door mad as hell. He rushed past Castiel and didn't even say hello. He slammed his bedroom door. Castiel ignored it. When Dean came out 10 minutes later, he was a lot more calmer, but he had a sweater on? He didn't come in with a sweater on. Maybe the shop was cold. 

"Here." He said softly, handing Dean his plate of food, then taking a seat next to him. "How was work?" He looked over at him.

Dean bit into his burger, chewed and swallowed before answering. "It was good. Some dickhead said that my shading was complete shit."

Cas frowned, "Is that why you were mad when you came in?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "Bastard sat in my chair for two fucking hours 'cause I had to get his rib piece done. I finished and he complained about it and said that he was never coming back to the shop again." He laughed. "I guess he hasn't seen my other stuff."

Castiel chuckled. "Your work is good, Dean."

He looked over at Castiel, "Hey. I ain't sweatin' it. I know my work is good. Great even!" He said confidently with a wink.

Castiel felt his cheeks warming. "Good." He said with a smile as he stuffed his face full of spaghetti. "If alot of other people trust you to draw permanent shit on their body, one man's opinion isn't going to matter."

Dean scoffed, "Word of mouth is how I do business,Cas. It matters alot. But i'm really not all that bothered by it anyway. The guy was a one timer anyhow. I have shit loads of people coming back to me." They shovel food in their mouths silently then Dean cleared his throat. "What about you, Cas. You have anymore tattoos other than the sleeve on your arm?"

Castiel belted out a laugh and looked at his arm. Did he have any tattoos? He followed the trail of tattooed flowers up his shoulder and stopped. A grin so wide was on his face now that Dean though it was going to split his face in two. "No, I just have this one." 

Castiel chuckled once more. Dean only knew that he had just that one sleeve, and that it only stopped at the base of his shoulder. What he didn't know that it started at his left wrist, traveled all the way up to his shoulder covered the entirety of his back, covered half of his right ass cheek, and went all the way down his right leg and stopped at his ankle. 

"You could use a little more ink." Dean suggested.

"Oh no! I've got plenty!" Castiel admitted.

"One sleeve isn't a lot, dude." Dean told him.

They finished dinner and Castiel carried their plates to the kitchen and put them in the sink. "I've never seen any of your tattoos up close, Dean." He started to pull Dean's sleeve up and Dean pulled away.

"Uh, Cas.." He pulled his sleeve down over his hands and gripped the cuffs. "That's not a good idea." He folded his arms across his chest so Castiel could pull at his shirt.

Castiel furrowed his brow, "Dean, their tattoos man. Come on. I'm sure they look fucking sick." Dean looked down. His arm is what looked fucking sick. He sliced it to fucking shreds not even an hour ago. It was still bleeding when he put his shirt on. It was probably stuck to his arm by now and there was probably blood smeared across his skin, but he couldn't tell because his shirt was black.

Cas threw his arms in the air and got up from the couch "Okay, bro. Maybe some other time?" He said going to the kitchen.

Dean nodded absent-mindedly, "Yeah, some other time.."

"Hey, Dean." Castiel called from the kitchen, putting away the leftovers. Dean's head shot up. "You've been acting weird lately. Are you okay?" He asked softly.

"Yeah, Cas." Dean answered quickly, laying back on the couch.

"Okay." He said putting the food in the fridge.

Castiel walked in the living room and swatted Dean's legs off the couch so he could sit down next to him. He slowly snaked his fingers up Dean's arms and started to pushing his sleeve up. Dean smacked his hand away. "Cas, I said no!" His voice was stern and that made Castiel put his hand back in his lap.

Dean stood up and went to his room. Cas just sat on the couch staring at his door. "Dean." He chuckled. "I just want to see them. They can't be that bad." 

"It's not that their bad, Cas. Their fucking awesome. I just-" He trailed off. "Don't want you to see them." He pulled both of his sleeves up and looked at his arms, then chuckled softly to himself. "Like this." He said in a whisper running his thumb across the scars and fresh cuts on his arm. 

"I'm a shitty person." He told himself. "I deserve more cuts than this." He sighed, lying down. He soon fell asleep and started snoring loudly. Castiel just left him alone.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Dean woke up and dug through his dresser for his blades. He went in his bathroom and stood in front of the mirror starring at himself for a minute. His eyes started burning and he felt hot tears on his cheek. He took his shirt off and decided he'd slice up his upper arm. The bleeding subsided after a few minutes and he went back to bed. Why? Did Lisa have to leave? Why couldn't she have stayed at least five more minutes? She was leaving his house! This was his fault! Lisa was dead because of him. Shit! Here comes the tears. Fuck!

Dean woke up around 11:30 he had to be at work in a half hour. He showered really quick, he didn't even care if the cuts burned, now wasn't the time. He brushed his teeth and got dressed. He had peanut butter toast for breakfast and was out the door at 11:49.

Saturday was laundry day and Castiel had gotten off work a few hours earlier so he thought he might as well get a head start on the the laundry. He picked up his clothes in his bedroom first and put them in the clothes hamper and carried it to the living room. Then he moved on to Dean's room, which, was quite awful. Clothes were everywhere on the floor. He carried Dean's clothes basket to the bathroom door and picked up the clothes in the bathroom. It wasn't until he was ready to walk out, something on the sink caught his eye. He back tracked a few steps. What the hell? Why were there bloody razor blades on th- He suddenly put two and two together. Bloody razors and long sleeves. No! Dean doesn't look like that type of person that would inflict pain upon himself.. What if he has been, and Castiel just didn't know it?

He cleaned the blades and placed them neatly in the tin Altoids case that Dean had them in and set them on the table. Dean wasn't home for a few more hours so why not get some laundry done?

As Castiel was doing their laundry he thought of some things he'd like to say to Dean. He was disappointed more than angry. The poor guy literally has no one. His parents died when he was 8, he ran away from his uncle Bobby's when he was a kid, and Sam is attending Stanford. And Lisa... Well, he knows what happened there.. Castiel was all Dean had, physically. They were just roomates, he didn't know if Dean thought that they were buddies or what. How could he have not seen that coming? Dean's been acting weird for almost an entire month. He figured that Dean would have been more open to him. Afterall, they have been living under the same roof for almost three months. 

Castiel was sitting on the couch with the tin of Dean's blades on the coffee table. He heard a car door slam in the driveway indicating that Dean was due to walk through the front door any second. He waited.

"Why the fuck are all the lights off?" Dean asked himself, confused as he shut the door behind him. He flipped on the lights and saw Castiel. "Cas, man! You can't fucking do that. You damn near gave me a heart attack."

Castiel didn't speak, didn't even look at him. He just sat there staring at the tin of blades.

"Cas you can't-" He got closer to him and saw what was on the table. "Fuck!" He said loudly, he ran his fingers through his hair, "Castiel, dude. I ca-"

"Show me your arms, Dean." He said sternly, staring blankly at the wall not even letting Dean finish his sentence.


End file.
